


Here

by TrashcanGod



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Spoilers, can be read as gen or pre-slash or anything really, no beta we typo like men, not quite torture really more like violent interrogation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashcanGod/pseuds/TrashcanGod
Summary: Hermann shouldn't be here. Really, he shouldn't, because he has direct orders from Lambert (the closest thing to an official they have left) to not under any circumstances have any contact with the possessed body that was once Newt Geiszler.(Hermann visits Newt a few days after the events of Uprising to talk.)





	Here

Newton Geiszler's holding cell is cold and dimly lit, with the man himself strapped to a chair like a centerpiece in the round room. Hermann shouldn't be here. Really, he shouldn't, because he has direct orders from Lambert (the closest thing to an official they have left) to _not_ under _any circumstances_ have any contact with the possessed body that was once Newt Geiszler.

While Hermann is not normally one to defy an order, he chose with no hesitation to ignore this one in particular. Hermann is a man of numbers and science; he believes in what he knows, and better than anyone, he knows Newton. He knows that interrogating the Precursors on how to open a breach for themselves is a fruitless endeavor, because they'll never tell. They don't give a damn about what happens to the body they're using. Lambert and the others know this, but they feel that there's no other option, for saving the vessel is a lost cause.

Hermann knows otherwise. He knows that Newt is still in there, he _saw_ him. And Hermann will not leave him to fight the beasts in his mind alone for another minute.

Which is why, at 2:30am, the doors into the interrogation room slide open with a hiss, and Hermann Gottlieb enters.

“Newton.”

“Hello, Hermann.”

There are dark rings under his eyes, and blood crusted beneath each nostril. His lip has been split in two different places, and Hermann is both saddened and infuriated. “I see you've been busy,” he says, voice carefully steady.

“Oh, yeah. Got a loads of appointments nowadays, people to see, fists to kiss.” Newt almost sounds like himself, an ironic tone with just a hint of self-deprecation. His body, though, is entirely still. Life doesn't run through his veins, with grand gestures like he makes an effort to use every bit of body he has to make his point. He's like a poorly-animated portrayal of himself. “But I don't seem to recall anything being scheduled with you...” He trails off and raises a brow.

“I wanted to check on you.”

“Did you, now?”

Hermann steps forward, gripping his cane, and Newt watches him with calculating eyes. “I did,” he says, as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a cleanly pressed handkerchief. Newt doesn't move a muscle as Hermann brings it up to his face, dabbing around the still-wet cut on his bottom lip.

“I hate that they're doing this,” he mutters, keeping his eyes on where he works while Newt's gaze stays trained on his face. “It's entirely unnecessary, beating you when they could be talking.”

“Talking to me, or talking to us?”

Hermann briefly pulls his hand away when Newt speaks, but resumes wiping away the blood as soon as he stops. “Talking to you, Newton. You may not have full control of the wheel, but you are still you.”

Newt blows air out his nose in a humorless imitation of amusement, looking straight ahead with despondent eyes, and Hermann stills his hand again when he speaks. “I'm me, I'm them, I'm him, I'm us...” He looks up to meet Hermann's eyes, and asks, “Just what am I, Hermann?”

Hermann hesitates for a breath, then answers, “You are Newton Geiszler. You are a scientist with six doctorates and the most enthusiasm for his field I have ever seen in a man. You have the maturity of a twelve-year-old, and an affinity for monster movies, rock music, and irritating me at every possible opportunity.” He pauses. Newt continues watching him, unblinking. “And you are the most brilliant person I have ever known.”

Newt watches him a moment longer, and Hermann swears he sees his eyes going soft before he looks away. Both are silent as Hermann reaches up to wipe at the blood dried beneath his nose.

“He needed you,” Newt says finally, quietly, and Hermann works. “You said you're still having nightmares from drifting with a Kaiju once? Imagine doing it twice.” He barks a laugh like shattered glass, gaze still somewhere in the middle distance.

“He was a wreck,” he continues, words disconnected, though his voice is still tinted at the edges with a certain world-weariness. “But he said he was fine, and you just took his word for it. He tried everything to get himself through it, but in the end...” Hermann finishes cleaning his face, and Newt looks up at him again and says, “No drug compares to the rush of a Kaiju drift.”

Hermann searches Newt's eyes. It's like looking through a glass of water tainted by a drop of ink, mixed in some places, swirled together, but still with pockets of clarity. He's seen Newt influenced by the precursors, the precursors influenced by Newt, and there have been moments of the precursors themselves, with a voice like the void and a rage that can hardly be contained by their human vessel. But even still, there is Newton; brilliant, wonderful Newton who shines through like the sun through murky clouds.

“I am truly sorry that I was not there for you,” Hermann says sadly. “But I promise that no one can stop me from being here for you now.”

Again, Newt is the first to look away. Hermann tucks his kerchief back into his pocket and turns to head to the door.  
  
“Wait.”

He freezes and looks back, and grips his cane tightly, for though the body strapped into the chair is stiff and motionless, the eyes that gaze at him are alive and broken and so, so tired, and Hermann knows like he knows the numbers that his universe is built upon that that is Newton.

“Will you come back?” Newt asks, a whisper of desperation leaking into his voice.

Hermann knows that he shouldn't. He knows that he is under direct order to do no such thing. But still, without a moment's hesitation, he answers, “Of course.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Pacific Rim Uprising fucked me right up. Listen, Precursor Newt, Kaiju Newt, any form of Newt being tainted from Kaiju drifts has been one of my favorite fic tropes, and I saw them leading up to it and I was like "no way, they aren't gonna do it, no fuckin' wayOH SHIT." I straight up went home and then spit out this fic that night. Lemme tell you man, I am SO ready for Newt to get the shit beat out of him and then Hermann to save him with the power of love. I'm all about it. Gimme that gay shit.
> 
> (Side note: the new Jaegers were sick as hell, and the only disappointment was that there weren't a whole lot of Kaiju, but they almost made up for that with the fucking Voltron Kaiju at the end.)
> 
> (Side note 2: I miss fanfic. Hopefully I'll get to write more... I just got home a few weeks ago after spending a few months doing volunteer work in Mexico and then a few more months in San Francisco, and now I'm trying to move out with my friend and then get a job and stuff, so shit's happening lately. But fingers crossed that I'll be able to make time for fanfic; I really wanna finish this long-ass FFXV monstrosity I have in the works...)
> 
>  
> 
> [](My%20Tumblr,%20which%20is%20kind%20of%20dead%20but%20has%20a%20link%20to%20my%20kofi.)


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